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On mornings like this, when the rain occupied the background as it went from drizzling to torrenting to calm, when the day was a little still, and when he woke after the previous night’s bed partner, he could feel all too well what he has become.
The bed beside him was cold, Liu Mingyan having stayed the night with him but left long before dawn for an excursion. She will be gone for a fortnight at the minimum. Her party will travel with Luo Binghe’s emblem raised high and dressed in his colors of black and silver. She allowed him to take her to bid her farewell.
He didn’t want to make breakfast today. He often did so for the wives he chose to bed the previous night, or if he was feeling especially generous he would devise a feast for all three hundred and seventy two of his wives. Not impossible, but certainly a task he went to bed with the plan and preparations made the night before.
The hour was too early. The rain had softened into a mist that still wet his shoulders and tickled his face. There was a pressure in the air he could feel in his chest. He went through the motions of sword forms, old teachings from days long since past. He despised how he still needed these foundations to this day, how even his raw power wasn’t enough if he didn’t have the right technique.
Luo Binghe spat on the ground to get the acrid taste off his tongue.
Every day, he sat in court on a throne of black obsidian. Every day, he listened to what his advisors had to say, sometimes actually taking their advice, and every day he would take a new conquest— whether it be a foe in battle or a maiden wife in his bed.
The Palace Mistress was especially clingy today. She perched herself next to his throne, hair elegantly looped and pinned in place with gold and pink floral accessories that shivered as she moved, her elegant hanfu floating around her like pink blossoms. She fluttered her thick lashes and turned her painted lips up in a coquettish smile.
Luo Binghe allowed her hand to travel up his thigh, her long, pink painted nails scratching at the material. He brushed a soft finger along her jawline, eliciting a pur from her chest.
She so much wanted to be the one he took tonight she was practically crawling onto his throne. A few of his wives were in the room with them, vying for his attention but nervous to overstep the Palace Mistress’ claim. Perhaps a foursome was in order, if it would get him out of the weird cloud that clung to his head.
He whispered his idea to the Palace Mistress, watching her youthful face twist with sourness. She was greedy, liked to swallow everything Luo Binghe gave her whole, and would be the one to crawl daringly into his throne and perch herself on his lap in an act of possession. She didn’t like sharing, but he was the emperor. She was not. If two other wives joined them in bed then she was not allowed to decline.
There was a brief reprieve of palace drama when a mercenary was captured and dragged to his throne room. He grinned, all bloody teeth up at the emperor who will certainly take his life.
“Speak, for what reason do you have to be invading my palace,” Luo Binghe demanded, not truly angry as he rested his temple against his curled fist, pose relaxed, but his order carrying through the hall. The Palace Mistress squirmed in her seat.
“Not to kill you or any of your precious harem wives, if that is what you’re worried about,” promised the mercenary, still grinning like a mad man. “I was not contracted to kill, only to harm. My job has been completed and now I bid you farewell, dear emperor. Long live Au Do!”
He had a firestone in his hand, about to crack it between his teeth and self-immolate. Luo Binghe was upon him in half a heartbeat, Xin Mo piercing his chest through and pinning the mercenary to the ground. He choked, the firestone dropping from his mouth and rolling away, sparking along the obsidian ground. Blood gurgled up from his mouth, spilling from his mouth and drenching the black stones beneath him with crimson.
“Find what he did. Leave no stone unturned. Report to me with anything unusual. I want the whole palace searched,” Luo Binghe ordered.
“He was found in the west wing, your highness,” reported one of the guards. “Shall we start there?”
“ Everywhere, ” Luo Binghe hissed, jerking the sword from the mercenary’s chest in one clean stroke. Blood flowed like a cascade. Luo Binghe did a quick swipe of his blade through the air, burning away all the blood.
“Including us?” The Palace Mistress came up behind him, dragging her dainty hands across his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. The top of her intricately done up hair didn’t even reach his shoulders.
“No, my Little Palace Mistress, you and the wives may be excused from the menial task.” He stroked the back of her petal soft hand.
Sha Hualing had stood only feet away from the dead body, the blood oozing across the floor already soaking her feet. The remaining wives had backed away, hiking up the hems of their fluttery hanfus and screeching about blood staining their slippers.
“M’lord,” she cooed. “May I join the hunt? Will little Hualing get a prize if she finds it?”
“Perhaps. The Little Palace Mistress has already claimed my bed tonight.”
The Palace Mistress stuck her tongue out at Sha Hualing, who grinned with all teeth in response. “We’ll see about that.”
She was off, skipping out of the hall with a jingle of her silver jewelry and bells, leaving behind a gruesome trail in her wake.
“Mobei,” Luo Binghe called. Mobei-jun stepped out of the shadows, cloaked in furs and darkness, his dreary face never a pleasant sight. “Find Au Do for me, do not kill, and do not bring them to me. Simply see what they are up to.”
Mobei-jun didn’t kiss up to him like the others, but still gave a deep bow then sank back into the shadows.
Luo Binghe shook off his wives to do his own looking. With the promise to have three to four of them in his bed tonight. That was probably what he needed. A late night of tumbling in the sheets to get his head back on straight.
It hasn’t been screwed on straight. Not for a while at least. He felt off-kilter, wrong footed. He swept through the palace halls, the winding courtyards, felt the sleet of rain against his skin and ignored how it dampened his hair, clung to his eyelashes.
The afternoon had put the palace to a grinding halt just to find whatever that mercenary had left behind. It pissed Luo Binghe off, everything from laundry and dinner to clergy was put on hold for everyone to scramble around every nook and cranny. Luo Binghe prowled the halls, only half looking, but mainly to keep his servants and guards on their toes.
It was Sha Hualing who bounced over to him in one of the back gardens. “I found it! I found it!” A handful of guards were scurrying to catch up with her, panting and red faced from exertion. She threw her arms around his neck, swinging herself around like he was a tree to climb. “What can I have for keeping my promise? Your bed tonight? How about your bed all week ?”
“You may join the Palace Mistress and I along with two others of her choice tonight, but you have me all to yourself tomorrow,” Luo Binghe promised.
She blinked her big dark eyes, still so young despite the years they have been at each others’ sides. She snarled. “Why do I have to share with her when I’m the one who deserves it more?”
“Because she asked first,” Luo Binghe stated. “A promise is a promise and I do not intend to break them.”
She led Luo Binghe, the red-faced guards, and his advisors to the west wing. Luo Binghe had an inkling that these men were the ones who found it and she had caught them, scurrying straight to Luo Binghe to claim her prize. He wouldn’t put it past her, and yet he didn’t feel like calling her out on it. Yet.
A mirror was dragged out from behind the wall. Someone had dug it out of the stonework, dusting debris from his silver surface. It glinted in the light of the braziers and night pearls. There was nothing spectacular about it, just a silver frame with carved barks of twisted trees holding the mirror in its embrace. It was tall, at least twice his height, and three broad men wide. Luo Binghe saw his reflection in its dusty surface, redwood eyes draped in shadows and his mouth pale, pressed into a thin line.
“A mirror,” he said slowly. “Why?”
“We are bringing talisman to test for any properties,” explained an attendant. “The mercenary had rebricked the walls to hide it and was found only because the clay was off color from the rest of the wall, not quite dry.”
“Now I would especially like to know who was on guard in this sector of the palace and had let a pest inside long enough unnoticed for him to rebrick a whole wall.” Luo Binghe’s eyes flashed crimson in the mirror’s reflection.
The advisor stuttered, the guards stumbled back. “Get their names,” Luo Binghe ordered. “And the mirror has magic. Can’t you imbeciles feel it?”
There was a radiance from within the mirror’s surface, the tree branches seemed to almost shift in an invisible wind. It oozed something old and powerful. His expression reflected back at him was dark and stormy.
He left, to go make some dinner for the wives he will bed tonight. Maybe noodles and some fish with ginger oil and scallions. It was customary for him to feed them when he took them.
— — —
Luo Binghe found himself in front of the mirror. Any of the guards who had been around this wing during the time it was planted had all been strung up in the southern courtyard for all to see. Seven total, and would stay there for seven days and nights. If they survived, they could keep their job.
The mirror was crafted from magic, something ancient emanating from its silver surface. Luo Binghe could not figure out what its purpose was and it drove him insane.
In his hair he found tucked amongst his twisted updo a braid, old and tangled. He touched the tail end of it where it fell past his shoulder, the braid frizzy and trying to unravel. He twisted it around his finger, frowning at his reflection.
Then his reflection smiled back and pale hands came up and around his chest. Long, elegant fingers, wrists cinched tight with arm guards, and spring green sleeves draped so long they nearly touched the floor. Luo Binghe jerked back, wiping at his chest to get the hands off. They were not there, nor were they in the reflection.
— — —
“Find out what that mirror is by sunset tomorrow. I am being generous by giving you a full day to figure this out, or else you will be joining the others in the courtyard,” Luo Binghe hissed to an adviser.
The advisor opened his mouth to respond, but was snapped shut when Luo Binghe already turned away and was marching out of the hall.
“You, tell the Palace Mistress, Sha Hualing, and anyone else they have chosen to my chambers tonight. And have a bath drawn for me.”
By the time he reached his ostentatious chambers, a bath in the sunken-in tub that was large enough to comfortably fit six adults (or, him and seven wives in an orgy) comfortably. The perfumed waters had jasmine petals floating on the surface, incense lit with sandalwood left a heady smoke in the air. Luo Binghe washed his hair and rinsed himself off before lowering into the waiting waters. He settled until the water traced his jawline, laying his head back and closing his eyes to soak into the misty warmth.
He laid there breathing, letting the day melt off him before he attended his wives. He wondered how that other, more pathetic version of him, could ever live with one faithful partner. Luo Binghe could not imagine not having all of his wives at his beck and call, not having nights where he had up to twelve to feast on at once.
That kind smile the fraud Shen Qingqiu gave him when Luo Binghe tipped his head back to look at him properly as he had done his hair. It haunted him. Shen Qingqiu had thought he was so slick as to slip a little braid in his hair. He could feel the phantom tugs as if he was playing with his hair now.
Long, delicate hands of a man with calloused palms and fingertips traced the line of his jaw from behind, the fingertips meeting at his throat and roaming down toward his chest. Luo Binghe gasped at the sensation—
He sat up, jerked around to see who was touching him. He was completely alone. He quickly got out and dried off, fluffing his hair out and wrapping himself in a thin silk robe that clung to his broad chest. There was no use in dressing further.
The four women were already in his bed chambers, stripped to the barest slips of silk and dainty ornaments. The air was heavily perfumed and the braziers lit with something fragrant and seductive.
It was the Little Palace Mistress who crawled to the end of the bed to meet him, her breasts nearly falling out of the nearly transparent robe and an intricate gold necklace that swung between her breast bones.
“My Lord,” she purred, rising to her knees to wrap her delicate arms around his neck to pull him into a pink-stained kiss. She smelled of roses and musk and sex. She was already aroused.
Sha Hualing came up behind him, already naked except for the little silver bracelets and anklets that sang as she moved. Later, with her legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounded her into the mattress, they’ll jangle wildly into the air. Her arms came around his chest (just like in the reflection) and tugged apart his robe. It fell to the floor between them.
The two other girls they had brought were exactly the type the Little Palace Mistress would pick out— shy and quiet, and would not do much to try and take her spotlight. They would sit pretty and let Luo Binghe play with them without demanding much. One draped in a pale blue duduo could barely meet his eyes, the other in a green robe that slipped off her shoulders was gripping the other woman’s bare knee.
Luo Binghe tumbled into bed with all four of them. Taking them apart with his hands and tongue, giving them all plenty of attention.
He leaned back to admire his handiwork but the peach blossom eyes and sweat-slicked temples of A-Mei were replaced with the haughty sneer of his former shizun. He jerked back, peeling himself off her as a douse of cold water flooded his bones. A-Mei cried out, her legs falling back onto the bed and her whole body shuddering and heaving. She had her own face again.
“M-my lord?” She gasped, voice hoarse.
“Hush, my apologies, sweet A-Mei. Let me help you finish.” He dove back down to bury those unpleasant visions away in the delicate heat of his wives.
When they were fucked out and fast asleep in his bed, Luo Binghe slipped out and put his single silk robe back on and slipped out of his chambers.
The prison cells down in the very bowels of his palace were mostly empty. He was not one for taking prisoners, preferring to either kill or torture than let them take up space.
The cell in the back still reeked of fear and death. Shen Qingqiu never showed how scared he was until his very last moments. Luo Binghe sneered at the empty chains rusted with blood and the crimson crusting the stones. He turned and left.
He found himself in front of the mirror again. This time, Shen Qingqiu fully wrapped his arms around his chest and hugged him. He peeked from around his shoulders, eyes bright with mirth. Luo Binghe’s reflection smiled. This wasn’t the teacher who tormented him for years before Luo Binghe took him apart and eventually killed him. This was the kind one, the other one he apparently didn’t deserve to have.
With a shout, he struck the mirror. His fist bounced off the surface harmlessly. Shen Qingqiu was gone.
— — —
He never allowed the thoughts of what he could not have to torment him. It seemed that there was not much he couldn’t have. The whole world was in his hand and everything he could ever want could be taken with either sweet words or force. He did not allow himself to yearn.
But he yearned.
Luo Binghe knew exactly what he couldn’t have. The past was the past, there was nothing he could do to change. Would he, if given the chance, go back in time and make Shen Qingqiu submit to him during his youthful years as a disciple on Cang Qiong Mountain? Absolutely.
No, he would save his mother. That was the one thing he allowed himself to yearn.
— — —
Only one guard survived in the courtyard. He did not want his job back, so Luo Binghe killed him. He begged for mercy, for his mother. Luo Binghe left him to bleed out and babble in the middle of the courtyard. By dinner, the bodies were all gone.
As it turned out, the mirror had the properties to bear the looker’s heart. His wives found that most intriguing and had spent the last week since its arrival taking turns to view the mirror. For more nights with Luo Binghe, for a specific perfume or piece of jewelry, to see loved ones they have long since lost.
The novelty of it wore out after the week and shortly after the guards’ bodies had been cleared out of the courtyard. Luo Binghe tucked himself on a bench behind a blooming azalea bush with a book in hand and a rare moment of peace without him tromping through the lands or through the halls of his palace.
Two of his wives and their cohort were meandering the winding garden paths, umbrellas perched over their heads by their attendants as they spoke in fluttering voices from behind their fans.
“Xiuyang said she saw A-Luo taking her from the back in the gardens. So he did just that to appease her!” One of them giggled.
“Oh! I had seen my mother. She died when I was young. His Highness and I shared that with each other when we first met and I’m sure that’s what opened his heart to me. But do you think I could convince him to take me in the dining hall during dinner? In front of everybody?”
“You know Mistress Yingying wouldn’t approve!” The first girl gasped.
“She could eat somewhere else!”
They came around the bend and stumbled to a stop, bowing and flustered at Luo Binghe. He raised his hand with a smile to make them stop. “What was that about me taking you in the dining hall during dinner? Did you want me to treat you as if you were the meal?”
— — —
“Your Highness?”
Luo Binghe whipped around. The full moon outside bathed the tower in white light, the lantern he had brought to see was now unnecessary and snuffed out. His reflection had turned around like he had.
Daiyu was standing at the entrance, still fully dressed in her day’s aoqun. She shuffled her feet nervously, the little dancing hairpins trembling with her nervous movements.
“What brings you here so late?” Luo Binghe asked, stepping closer.
She swallowed loudly. “I wanted a peek at the mirror. It is said to show your truest desires, reflect what the heart wants without the cloud of your own judgment.”
Luo Binghe stepped aside, waving a hand to let her see. She slowly stepped forward, fidgeting with her sleeves. She took a deep breath and faced the mirror.
She froze, eyes wide. She worked her jaw, comprehending what was reflecting back at her.
Luo Binghe could not see what she saw. He simply asked, “What do you see, Daiyu?”
“I see… A-Mei. And a little girl. She has her eyes.”
Her visage in the mirror was replaced by his mother. The crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes, the sag to her shoulders, and her weathered hands were everything he remembered. She spoke in the mirror, her lips forming the words as Daiyu continued to talk.
“She’s holding my hand. And I’m oh! I’m pressing a kiss to her cheek!” Daiyu and his mother raised their hands to their mouths in surprise. One set was lovely and pale, the other tanned and wrinkled.
“Your Highness!” Daiyu whirled around and fell to her knees. The image of his mother disappeared. “I will never, ever leave your side. Please, do not think my desires are something I will act upon. It was selfish of me to come here.”
“Do not fret.” Luo Binghe knelt down, finally tearing his eyes away from the mirror. “As long as you promise to not abandon me, you may do as you please. Go, be with her. Just be sure your allegiance is to this Venerable One.”
And, he would have to take them both to bed together more often.
Daiyu wiped the tears from her eyes, gave him a kiss, and scurried away.
Luo Binghe turned to the mirror. His mother was gone.
— — —
A child was crying in his court. He had killed the thing’s father in front of him. The man had not held up his end of a promise and lost his life. May it be a lesson for the child.
Luo Binghe froze. His mother stood among the crowd of onlookers. They were whispering amongst each other, but she was looking at him with a carefully blank face. A face she used whenever she had spoken about the rich family she had worked for, schooling her expression to keep the distaste of her tongue. She refused to hold hate in her heart, even for the people who worked her to death.
Court was quickly dismissed. She disappeared in the crowd as they left the hall.
“Mobei,” Luo Binghe called.
The shadows shifted somewhere to his right. He did not turn to see.
“Au Do does plan a coup, but intends to take their time. The mirror is a distraction.”
Luo Binghe frowned. He felt a whisper of a touch through his hair, like someone was braiding a lock of hair with a giggle on their lips.
“With a mirror of party tricks?”
“They must think you have a restless heart. The mirror will drive anyone insane if they are not careful.”
“I will have it removed immediately. My wives have had enough fun with it. When does Au Do plan to strike?”
“From now, after a full moon cycle.”
“Good to know. Find out more. If you can, squash it from the inside.”
The shadows shifted once more, then silence.
The blood stained the obsidian stones of his throne room. He went to the mirror.
— — —
His mother reflected back at him instead of his own face. She did not say a word. Nor did he.
“You are not happy with what I have done. You do not believe in my riches, my power, my wives. You are not here to judge me for my choices. You are not here to tell me what I’ve done wrong. What I’ve become. ”
She only stared. He snapped. “You’re dead. And I’m angry every day you’re not here, because of those people and because of me you’re gone. I deserve your disappointment, but don’t make me acknowledge it. I am the last Heavenly Demon, ruler of the three realms. There should be nothing but pride in your eyes.”
It was sadness in her eyes. It burned his throat. That wrong-footedness has shifted at some point. He felt himself falling for the first time since he was pushed into the Endless Abyss. His mother was sad. Hot tears burned his eyes. He blinked them away and Shen Qingqiu with those kind eyes was staring back at him. He smiled softly, sadly. Luo Binghe blinked. The eyes were cold, his lips drawn back into a sneer that twisted his whole face.
This, he could handle. He raised his fist and smashed it against the mirror. It did not budge, not when he kept hitting it over and over.
The things he was not allowed to yearn for taunted him. He controlled his dreams, he controlled his destiny, and yet, why do these faces bring him the most grief?
Despite the onslaught, the mirror did not shatter. His mother stared back at him.